Love Realised
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: Terrible title, apologies. ANOTHER rip-off of Miss Puppet; elaborating on the epilogue of her story.
1. Chapter 1

**I've decided to write a story elaborating on the events of the epilogue of Miss Puppet's glorious story- I really hope she doesn't mind, and I'd be especially grateful if she wanted to throw hints at me or correct me at any point. Though this is by no means the focus of the entire story (my story, that is) here's a bit of a good old Ruth and Celia chatter by way of an introduction.**

There was, Ruth concluded, marriage and marriage. The first kind entailed legal documentation, the requisite jewellery, and that was about it, really. This was the kind of marriage that had her and Eddie stamped all over it, she reflected bitterly. Then there was the other kind: the devotion, the affection, the forsaking all others. The passion. She shivered pleasantly just a little at the thought, leaning further back into her chair in contemplation. Did one kind of marriage necessarily demand or require the other? No, given her own past experience, it did not. Therefore, if- on a purely hypothetical basis- Tim were to come over tonight and just neglect to leave, then there would be nothing more wrong in that than in the few times that Eddie had chosen to avail himself of her body before their marriage had finally ground to a halt. In fact, she thought, she suspected that there would be a lot less wrong in it if Tim were to spend the night in her house. And by house, she meant bed. And by bed, she meant arms.

"Ruth, what on earth are you looking like that for? You're watching me very oddly," the sound of Celia's voice brought her abruptly back down to earth.

She blinked hard, and took a sip of her tea, which was substantially colder than the last time she'd had a drink of it.

"What's the matter, Ruth?" Celia asked, "Aren't you very well? You needn't have come round for coffee just to be polite, you know, I don't mind."

"Tim's coming over tonight."

The confession- the entire contents of her brain at the moment- slipped from her mouth before she'd given it a second thought, partly because she was so relieved at being given the opportunity to get it off her chest. And whether or not it was a good idea in the long run to be telling anyone this at all, the look on Celia's face told her that she was almost as pleased about it as Ruth was. Perhaps even more so.

"Oh, Ruth!" Celia almost squealed she was so excited, evidently having made the assumption without a moment's hesitation that there would be... well, goings-on, as it were, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Why?" Ruth asked calmly and just a little testily "He's been to my house before."

"Yes but you said yourself, he's not just going to your house, he's "Coming over"," Celia reminded her, her eyebrows manoeuvring astonishingly.

"Is there a difference?" Ruth wanted to know.

"A world of difference, Ruth my dear."

"Oh." She did not know what else to say to that.

"Oh, come on Ruth, don't try to tell me that it didn't cross your mind," Celia's coyness could verge on devilish at times, Ruth realised, "If it didn't, you'd be about the only one. Everyone thinks you two are made for each other."

"Do they?" Ruth asked, genuinely surprised by this and rather pleased, although rather miffed that "everyone" had been discussing them.

"Well, everyone except Marie. She looked like someone had slapped her in the face with a wet fish."

This was not something that particularly surprised her, but it still made her smile a little bit.

"Ceal, I've told him that I love him."

Celia chose the wrong moment to take a large swig of coffee.

"Then what on earth are you worried about?" she demanded once she'd recovered herself, "You do love him, don't you?" she checked quickly, worrying that the problem might lie in a hastily made statement on Ruth's part or something like it.

"Of course I do," Ruth told her a little crossly, "Don't be silly, Celia."

"And he blatantly adores you and doesn't care who knows it. Well, this is an impossible situation if ever I came across one," Celia rolled her eyes as she reached for a biscuit to dunk into her coffee, "Honestly, Ruth, you must be absolutely crackers if you've a shadow of a doubt that-..."

"How do you know that I've got a shadow of doubt?" Ruth asked, trying to sound accusing in order to cover up just how right Celia was.

Celia eyed her up over the top of her coffee cup.

"Anyone could tell by looking at you," she remarked dismissively, "It's written all over your face. And even if it wasn't, I could tell because I know you, and you're Ruth, and you're bound to be worried about something. So out with it. What is it?"

Really, Ruth thought, if there was one thing she learned in the rest of her life it was going to have to be utterly inscrutable; otherwise she'd never be safe from the likes of Celia. She sighed.

"It's a long time since I've been... with a man."

"Even longer since you've been with a real man, given the way Eddie turned out," Celia amended.

"Well, quite," there was very little point in contradicting that, partly because it was true, "The point is, what am I going to do?"

"Well, if you're looking for the quickest solution to that specific problem, go and find Tim now and pin him down and make love to him with all possible haste."

"Celia! I'm being serious."

"So am I. You never know, you might feel a lot better for it," Celia told her, a glint in her eye, taking another biscuit, "Alternatively, you could take the more rational approach."

"That sounds like a very good idea."

"When he comes over tonight make sure you've got the lot: candles, music, nice food, whatever you need to feel relaxed. A pretty dress mightn't do any harm either. Let it take itself from there. I assume you've got no doubts that Tim's the man you want to be doing this with?"

"Celia, I love him and I mean it. And I'm not ashamed of it."

"You'd have been such a good heroine for a novel," Celia remarked with a smile in reply to Ruth's earnestness, "Really, I can't see why you're worried at all."

"The idea of sex frightens the wits out of me." Evidently, once she'd started confessing she couldn't stop.

Celia raised her eyebrows.

"Even with Tim?"

"Slightly less with Tim," Ruth conceded, "But the problem's not him, it's me!"

Celia tilted her head sympathetically, but not without a suggestion of firmness.

"Why?" she enquired.

"In the last few years with Eddie things weren't exactly..." Ruth didn't quite know how to voice it, "He stopped finding me attractive a long time ago," she concluded, looking down at her knees.

"Well, we all know what I think of his opinion, especially on matters such as these," Celia replied dismissively.

Ruth remained silent.

"That's it?" Celia enquired incredulously, "That's the only reason that you're worried?"

"It's a fairly big reason," Ruth told her, a little defensively.

Celia ignored the remark, and laughed out loud.

"Oh, Ruth! You've got nothing to lose. Go for it."

Ruth begged to differ.

"I've got Tim to lose," she pointed out.

Celia gave her a look.

"No you haven't," she told her with almost unnerving certainty, "I don't think you stand a chance of losing him at any time in the near future."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter was just meant to be a short filling in chapter to adjust one or two things very very slightly after my discussion with Miss Puppet, but it sort of grew and grew and then Celia turned up again and it was suddenly two thousand words long. I really hope it's alright. **

Needless to say, when Ruth left Celia's she still had her doubts. Yes, she was sure that Celia only meant to reassure her; she'd never dream of deliberately knocking her confidence, but sometimes Ruth couldn't help finding Celia's certainty a little bit too... certain, especially in this area. And as a result, she ended up not voicing the specific problems that lay at the heart of what was troubling her, for fear of feeling that they were not quite being understood. That, and the fact that voicing them would probably have lead to an in-depth and candid dissection of the modest entirety of Ruth's sexual experiences. And Ruth had always approached the idea of talking about sex in any kind of detail with the same attitude, even when she was much younger: taking your clothes off in front of another person was one thing, and could, at times, be pleasant; talking about it to a third party was another thing altogether, and nothing even approaching pleasant. Especially, she reflected gravely, leaning back against the kitchen bench a little bit too heavily, when there was a lack of pleasant experiences to report in the first place. So, she had decided to keep her mouth shut, allowed Celia's reassurances to wash over her, and left to get ready for the evening.

She had never been one of these women like Chris and Celia who could literally spend all day getting ready, she hadn't the patience for it and the end result was seldom ever worth it, but still she had thought that in this case starting early couldn't be a bad thing. Except she realised now that she had just re-cleaned the kitchen in preparation for cooking something in it. If it was possible to go overboard at a time like this, that probably counted as going a bit too far.

She sighed, sticking her hand into her hair in mild frustration. It was probably a good idea to leave the kitchen, she thought, in case she started manically scrubbing it again purely out of nervous compulsion. Deciding that she should probably think about what she was going to wear, she made her way up the stairs at a determined pace.

Opening the doors of her wardrobe, she stood back to survey its contents with a critical eye. Celia had recommended a pretty dress. Well, she could do that, she had pretty; but what sort? Flowery pretty? She pulled out two dresses and a blouse that were speckled with flowers . The blouse was going along the seam under the arm, and she put it to one side, making a mental note to mend it at some point. One of the dresses might do, but the other was a little bit too tarty for her now. She had bought it when she was much younger and she doubted it would even fit any more. She put it aside with the blouse, thinking that she would take it down to the charity shop when she got the chance.

But then, trying on the other dress she had brought out of the wardrobe, she realised it made her look like she was of her mother's generation. It made her look like her mother. Oh good God, she thought helplessly, turning around in front of the mirror in moderate horror. She had worn this dress pretty recently too, and she hadn't realised how old and frumpy it made her look. Trying not to look at her own reflection she took it off as quickly as possible. Once it was off, she still kept her eyes turned firmly away from the mirror; dreading the notion of it emerging that it wasn't the dress making her look old.

"Don't be silly," she heard Annie's voice in the back of her mind saying what she had said to her when she had been nervous while the calender was being printed, "You've got a smashing body."

Then she thought of Eddie, deliberately turning out the light before he touched her the last time they had made love. The last time they had had sex, she corrected herself. She suddenly felt like she wanted to cry. But she couldn't, she refused to. She couldn't stand around in her bra and knickers, crying over Eddie, she told herself firmly. That really would be letting him win.

Looking for something to distract herself, the dress she had thought was too tarty lay over the back of the chair at her little dressing table. She picked it up, running the fabric between her fingers. It was pleasantly soft and the flowers on it were a pretty shade of blue. But it was cut dreadfully low, she reminded herself, holding it up, and the red fabric that made up most of the pattern was a terribly racy shade. Come to think of it, she seemed to remember that she had bought this dress on her first shopping trip with Chris, Annie and Celia many years ago, under considerable duress. She shook her head a little, smiling wearily.

Still, it couldn't hurt to try it on, could it? If only to put _something _on, she was feeling a bit chilly.

Well, she thought, looking at her reflection in the mirror, it didn't make her look old, much to her surprise. Mutton dressed as lamb, possibly, but... no, that wasn't it. There was something, she couldn't quite say if she liked it, but it was very... different.

The sound of the doorbell almost caused her to leap clean out of her skin, and she was ashamed to realise that she had been staring intently at her own reflection without even realising. Shaking her head at herself, she hurried downstairs to answer it.

When she appeared through the glass in the door, Celia's jaw dropped.

"What's the matter?" Ruth asked her anxiously as soon as the door was open, "Do I look like a right tart?"

"Well, no," Celia replied, still looking startled, following Ruth into the house, "If I was a bloke of some education, a doctor like," she added pointedly, just to make sure Ruth got the point, "I'd probably say a siren."

Ruth snorted loudly.

"Alright, Ceal, there's no need to overdo it."

"I'm not kidding, you look bloody marvellous, Ruth. He won't know what's hit him." 

"Yes, I was rather afraid of that," Ruth replied ruefully.

"I came round because I wanted to check that you were alright. You still didn't seem quite right when you left before," Celia told her gently, settling herself down in an armchair, "Can I say one thing, though?" she ventured apprehensively, "You're not going to wear that bra, are you?"

Ruth coloured furiously around the face, checking herself hastily in the sitting room mirror. Sure enough, the light of the big french windows, the dress was a little bit less opaque than it had appeared upstairs.

"I'm not going to wear this dress at all," she told Celia firmly, horrified and quite irritated now, "I was only trying it on. I shouldn't have had it on at all, really, I was going to take it to Oxfam."

"What the heck for?" Celia demanded, "I'm not making it up to make you feel better, Ruth, you look bloody fantastic. Not that I think you've got any winning over to do as far as Tim's concerned, but if you did, I'm fairly sure that the sight of you in that would do it."

"So, in short, this dress would do me the world of good, if I want to get Tim to sleep with me," Ruth surmised, "In fact, it might just about swing it for me. I _am _just a silly tart."

And with that she sat down on the arm of the settee and promptly burst into tears.

Startled by Ruth's averse reaction, Celia galloped clumsily over to the sofa, grabbing Ruth quickly into a massive hug, shushing her softly as she gulped a little with sobs.

"Oh, Ruth, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant it to sound like at all. Please don't cry," Celia pleaded, "You'll set me off as well. I'm so sorry."

Gradually, Ruth hiccoughed to a halt, wiping her eyes on her wrist. Celia relinquished her hold on her a little.

"Do you want me to go and put the kettle on, and you can tell me what's really bothering you this time?" Celia asked softly.

Not knowing what else to do, Ruth nodded childishly.

Once they were settled at the table with two mugs of tea, Celia fixed her with a steady and patient gaze.

"Whenever you're ready," she told her calmly, "I've got all afternoon."

"Well..." Ruth began slowly, not knowing quite how or where to begin.

"You said earlier that it was to do with how Eddie treated you," Celia prompted gently, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been so dismissive of it. Tell me now."

"Well," Ruth began again, "It had been like that for a while before I left him."

"Like what?"

"He'd... he'd always put out the light when we'd..." Ruth jerked her head weakly.

"He never did?" Celia seemed genuinely appalled, "The bastard," she hissed into her teacup with real venom.

"I was silly to let him," Ruth told her weakly, "I should have told him from the start, 'Eddie, we do this properly or not at all.' Except I think I know where that might have got me."

"And if you ask me, you'd have been a lot better off for it," Celia told her decisively, "I can't believe he... How dare he? When I see him..."

It was touching to see Celia so indignant on her behalf, but Ruth pressed on, thinking that if she didn't voice this now she never would.

"Trouble is," she continued quietly, "I can't help but think that that's what Tim might do. Well, not really, he's too well-mannered for that, but he might still want to. That's if we ever..."

"Ruth, I highly doubt that that's going to be a problem with Tim," Celia told her, the hint of a knowing look creeping into her face, "And if I'm wrong and it is, then that's _two _men I've got to chase round the village and shoot once I persuade Frank to let me borrow his shotgun."

Ruth looked at her doubtfully.

"I mean it Ruth. You said you'd told him that you love him. Tim, that is. What did he say to that?" 

"He told me that he loved me first," Ruth replied shyly, thinking she knew what Celia was getting at.

"There you are, then," Celia concluded, "Ruth, Tim's not a spineless rat like Eddie was, he's a good man, and I firmly believe that if he says he loves you, he doesn't mean as brother and sister. Don't be frightened, he's good and he's gentle and he's kind," she told her, "And believe it or not it has been known for people to have sex because they enjoy it."

"I had heard that," Ruth replied wryly.

Celia grinned.

"And you love him and he loves you. I'd say this was as good a shot as you'll ever have of finding that out for yourself."

Ruth was quiet.

"Ruth, you're absolutely beautiful when you want to be, you know," Celia told her, "But you have to want to be."

Ruth raised her eyebrow.

"Are you trying to tell me that Tim finds me attractive, or that you do, Celia?"

Celia hooted with laughter.

"Not to mention that you can be wildly funny when you've a mind to. And there I arrest my case," Celia concluded triumphantly.

Ruth finally dared to smile and she took a sip of her tea.

"Is there anything that I can get for you?" Celia asked, "Do you need anything for tonight that you haven't got?"

"Not that I can... Oh, there is one thing. Would you happen to have any red lipstick?"

"I practically trade in the stuff."

"Oh, good. Because I haven't got anything of my own that will match this dress."

Celia practically beamed at her, opening her handbag to find it.

"Good girl," she told her,depositing the lipstick on the table in triumph, "For that you can keep that one. I've got plenty rattling around at home."

**Please review if you have the time. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for your reviews so far. I'm really enjoying this and the next chapter will either be tomorrow or Sunday.**

She decided in the end not to decide between wearing her hair up and leaving it down; she pulled the strands at the front back to hold them at the back of her head with a large grip and let the rest stay falling back, just reaching her shoulders. With an admirably steady hand, she applied Celia's lipstick and looked back down to her dressing table to choose a pair of earrings. She didn't have any red ones, she so rarely wore red, but when she found the pearls she had worn almost constantly in California she couldn't help but smile. Of, course, they were the ones she'd been wearing when she had first met him. Not that she expected him to have noticed. She didn't think he was unobservant, but they were so small, beautiful as they were, that she'd barely noticed herself.

Getting up from the dressing table, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Well, no one could accuse her of not having made an effort. She had spent a good hour in the bath, washed, conditioned, slightly curled, practically replanted her hair, put on some make-up, decided that it was too much and then taken it all of again, deciding to settle for a little bit of mascara and a hint of the lipstick. And she had shaved her legs too, just in case; which in her case inevitably meant nearly slicing her leg off, and she had had to hop around the bathroom for about five minutes, wrapped in a towel and clutching a bit of tissue to her ankle. She must be absolutely mad, she thought on reflection. Mad, or in love.

She had almost got used to this dress by now, even. She had spent most of the afternoon wearing it to make sure she was absolutely sure, as she pottered about straightening cushions and making sure none of the flowers were dead.

"Have you got a red bra you could wear with it?" Celia had asked as she was leaving, eyeing Ruth's bust apprehensively.

"No I haven't!" Ruth told her, mortified, folding her arms over her bosom for good measure.

"Oh, well that's alright, I've got one at home you could-..."

"No you haven't," Ruth told her firmly, "From what I've heard from Annie about your carry on with the "bigger buns", I don't think there's much chance of that. Good afternoon, Celia."

"Bye bye, Ruth."

In the end, at the very back of her underwear drawer, she had managed to find a black bra though, and, mercifully, a pair of knickers to match, so she didn't feel too silly. She smoothed her hands down over the skirt and it fluttered pleasantly. Yes, this dress would do as well as any. She made her way downstairs to light the candles.

It had been silly, she realised, all of this worrying. If there was one person on earth that she could say she trusted inside out, it was Tim. He would never, never hurt her and she had known it all along. Well, the worrying had been half-silly; she didn't know if she could trust herself to live up to his expectations, because he would have them. That could not be helped by the best will in the world. She had read in women's magazines that she'd borrowed occasionally when she hadn't had anything to read and Chris had been around that she should really be thinking about herself and her own needs as far as expectations and everything they led to were concerned; but to her mind that wasn't right at all. What was the point of it? That was Eddie's attitude towards sex, and she was damned if she was going to be caught thinking like that. She had done her best, but what if that wasn't enough?

Oh hell, a little voice inside of her said, Ruth, you have no idea what will happen. Just go and find out.

It was as reasonable an approach as any. It seemed that there was nothing else she could do but that.

For the second time that day, the sound of the doorbell nearly gave her a heart-attack. Well, this was what they called "it".

She waved to him almost shyly through the glass of the front door before she quickly turned the key to let him in. To say that the look on his face took her aback was a considerable understatement.

"Hello."

"Ruth-... I..." Tim looked rather taken aback himself, it was true, "Wow."

Ruth blushed a little, but was sharply distracted when he bent down and kissed her, on the lips. She wasn't sure if he had aimed for her cheek and missed as she turned her head or not, but really she had no complains. By the time they broke apart she was even relaxed enough to smile.

"You look wonderful, Ruth," he told her in low voice, that verged just enough on awe for her to know that he was being absolutely sincere.

She'd been so preoccupied that she hadn't noticed that he had brought her some flowers, some white lilies. Though he was generally confident and well-assured, she didn't miss the note of apprehension- almost like a smitten schoolboy, she dared to venture- as he held them out to her.

"Rod told me that they're your favourites," he told her.

"He's right, I think they're beautiful," she told him, taking the large bunch of flowers from his hands almost gracefully, "Thank you so much. Do come in."

He followed her in through the living room and into the kitchen, letting him fetch the vase for her and fill it with water as she held the flowers.

"Would you like me to help with dinner?" he asked.

She was turned towards the sink, arranging the flowers, but she could see in the reflection from the window that he hadn't taken his eyes off her once. She allowed herself a small smile.

"If you don't mind," she replied, lifting the flowers onto the table, "We're having spaghetti. I know its dull, but I do a very reasonable spaghetti, and a very safe one too."

"I don't mind spaghetti at all," he told her, "Where do you keep your pasta?"

"In that big jar with "Pasta" written on it, beside the bread bin."

They made a good cooking team, she thought, even when he was a little bit distracted and they got the pasta on to cook twice as quickly because of it.

"Do you want to dish out or shall I?" she asked him over her shoulder, leaning over the kitchen bench to find the two large pasta dishes and the serving spoon.

It took her immensely by surprise when she felt his hand reaching down over her arm to lie on top of her hand on the bench, as he came up behind her, leaning over her so that his chest brushed against her back, and bent to plant a kiss on her exposed neck above the redness of the dress. Instinctively, she tilted her head so that he had better access. His chin rested gently on her shoulder as she exhaled deeply.

"You're so beautiful, Ruth," he whispered, his lips close to her ear, "I'm sorry, but I just couldn't help myself. You're breath-taking."

"There's no need to be sorry," she heard herself say- as little as a kiss seemed to have completely unhinged her senses from the control of her brain.

Turning to face him, feeling his arms drape automatically around her back, she lifted her arms to his neck and kissed him full on the mouth, hesitantly at first, but growing bolder as she felt him respond to her immediately.

"I love you so much, Ruth," he told her quietly as they broke apart and simply held each other.

"I love you too," she replied, smiling quite ecstatically over his shoulder. She quite literally couldn't believe her luck.

She let him hold her for a few moments, enjoying the way that their breathing had apparently fallen entirely into sync, but just about managed, with great reluctance, to say:

"We'll ruin the spaghetti if we keep this up for much longer."

"You're right," he replied, planting a kiss in her hair before he let go of her, "You dish out, to answer your earlier question," he told her, "I'll set the table."

Bringing the plates in quickly- it seemed burdensome to be away from him for too long somehow- she settled in the chair at the head of the table so that he sat on her right hand side, the better to be able to talk to him and look at him at the same time.

"This is lovely, Ruth," he told her, tucking in to his spaghetti.

"Good, I'm glad. Like I say, I can do a reasonable spaghetti because I used to cook it for my sister when mum had to work nights at the hospital, and, well when Eddie was away a lot it was easy when I was only cooking for one,"- she'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't mention him, but, oh well. He was bound to crop up one way or another and she supposed she was lucky that the first time it was over something as benign as spaghetti.

Tim smiled at her rambling on in her way.

"I meant being here with you," he told her, "But the spaghetti's very nice as well. Your mum worked in a hospital, you said?"

"Yes, she was a maternity nurse. Useful thing to have round in a village like this, but it was a nightmare of a journey to Skipton on dark and rainy nights, she used to tell us."

"Have you lived here all your life?"

"Forever."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Ruth?"

"Mm?"

"I meant it, you know. It makes me happier than I've been in a long time to just be here with you."

Oh, she almost wished he wouldn't look at her like that. His eyes, alarmingly blue, slowly, slowly darkening as he watched her. He made her feel so safe and loved and everything, really, that she'd ever gone about trying to feel with other people. Now it was as if she didn't need to try at all. She loved him so much. It sent little shivers up her spine. Her hand flitted shyly over to where his lay on the table.

"Tim, I love you too, more than I could have imagined I'd love anyone again. Now eat your spaghetti."

Once they'd stacked the dishwasher with their plates, they made their way over to the settee. Automatically, Ruth settled comfortably into his arms, leaning back against his chest, her head under his chin, but later on she felt herself slipping alarmingly far down his body as her posture relaxed. There was no way she could sit back up straight without elbowing him in the stomach, so cautiously, hesitantly, she allowed herself to relax all the way down so that her head rested on his knee. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird, watching his face to see how he would react.

His head lowered in slight surprise, looking at her carefully. Then he smiled affectionately down on her, his hands moving to caress the side of her face, to tangle gently in her hair. It was the closest she had felt to anyone in her life. Her mind was made up. The thing was, she knew it was up to her to ask him. He would never be so presumptuous as to ask her, or want to feel like he was putting her under pressure.

"Tim?" she spoke tentatively.

"Yes?"

"You know, you don't have to go home tonight, if you don't want to. You can stay here. With me," she added, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Are you sure Ruth? It's not too soon for you?"

He hadn't said no. Heaven was obviously smiling on her. She nodded against his hands.

"I want you to stay with me," she told him.

Leaning over, he kissed her lips softly, with a promise of more things to come.

**Please review if you have the time. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Note rating (M). My first M for a paring always makes me nervous. I really hope this is ok. **

Taking him by the hand, more confidently than she felt, she had to admit, she switched off the light in the sitting room behind them and led him upstairs to her bedroom. They lingered in the doorway, him catching her mouth for a slow kiss before they crossed the threshold and waiting for her to go in first, always making sure that she was leading the way, making sure that she was sure. She noticed this, and to make sure he knew that she was grateful for it smiled at him as they reached the centre of the room and she reached her arms up to his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. His hands were now settled on her waist and lower back, holding her close to his body. The room felt tiny, and close and hot like this, in the blackness.

"Hang on a second," she heard him say, her heart nearly skipping a beat until he continued, at which point it nearly stopped altogether, "Where's the light switch in here? I can't see a thing."

She stood stock still and silent for five seconds that seemed to last for years, unable to believe what she'd just heard.

"Ruth?"

Snapping back to her senses, she planted another brief but ecstatic kiss on his lips as she passed him to switch on the bedside lamp- she thought the ceiling light would be too harsh on their eyes after getting used to the dark, and unromantic besides. Flicking the switch back on, she bent down for a second or two, removing her bracelet and her earrings and setting them down on the bedside table next to the lamp and her alarm clock.

"Do you want a few minutes to get ready for bed?" he asked her, noticing how the earrings skittered slightly with her over-excited fingers.

"If you don't mind," she replied, thinking that would probably be best- she could change into her nightie then.

"Just so long as you don't take hours in the bathroom," he teased her, his eyes telling her that the request was made much more in the line of wanting her there with him than general impatience.

"I'll be five minutes," she assured him, daring herself to reach out and stroke her hand quickly down his chest as she passed him on her way to the wardrobe. He heard him groan quietly and bit her lip to hide her grin. "I'm afraid I haven't got any pyjamas to offer you. Unless you squeeze into a pair of mine."

They exchanged a grin at the absurd mental image. She found her nightie folded neatly on its shelf in the wardrobe and took it out, shutting the doors behind her.

"No it's fine, I'll just sleep in my vest and shorts. If that's alright with you, that is," he added quickly.

"Tim," she looked at him very levelly, hoping she could say what had sprung into her head in reply without mucking it up in some way or another, "We both know that when I asked you to stay, I didn't really have pyjama party in mind. And I'll be very disappointed if you end up sleeping in... well, in anything really."

He was looking at her in some amusement. She suddenly went from feeling almost vaguely bold to feeling extremely silly. Luckily, however, the next thing he did was to draw her into his arms, offering her absolute reassurance at least in that moment, and just hold her to him.

"Oh, Ruth," he told her gently, laughing a little but without sounding like her was patronising her, "You are wonderful."

"I'll be five minutes," she assured him when they broke apart, though, truth be told there was a part of her that had serious objections to leaving him at all, even for that short time, "Just make yourself comfortable here."

She bobbed out of the room straight across the hall to the bathroom. Recklessly, she almost tore dress off herself once she was there, determined to make the absolute most of these five minutes. She practically jumped out of her underwear, throwing it all haphazardly into the laundry basket in the corner. Unclipping her hair, she gave her head a little shake to give it some life, but in the end it made it look a little bit too wild. At the same time as she cleaned her teeth she gave herself the tinniest dab of lavender oil to calm herself and to ensure she smelt nice, quickly dabbing the mascara off her eyes. She rinsed her mouth and dared to glance at herself in the mirror. For a moment, she barely recognised herself, even though she often wore this nightie when she was just at home; there was something different. Happiness, maybe. Real hope.

He was sat on the edge of the bed in his shirt and trousers when she slipped back into the room, his feet still planted firmly on the floor, though he had already taken his shoes and socks off. Looking towards her, his jaw seemed to consider dropping again, but he managed to keep it in check. She smiled. Once again, he was staring avidly at her, though this time more unashamedly by far, taking in the graceful lie of the nightdress on her hips, the way in dipped a little- hinting towards her breasts and cleavage- and the contrast of the colour against her skin.

"I bought it in Hollywood," she told him, as she stepped forward shyly to stand before him- tempted almost to giggle at the look on his face. 

"It seems a lot of good things happen in Hollywood," he remarked, his voice lower than usual and slightly hoarser.

"Yes," she agreed, resting her hands on his shoulders, as his slipped forward to hold her waist, brushing his thumbs in arcs along her stomach through the silk.

She stared deep into his eyes as she stood between his knees, losing herself almost entirely.

"I love you so much, Ruth," he told her, watching her face with true tenderness.

"I know," she replied, because she did and it was making her feel a lot braver, even though it was making her even so slightly weak in the knees, "I love you too."

When they kissed this time it was in such a way that it made her feel as if every other kiss before it had been meaningless. She felt herself sink gently in his arms, allowing him to support her, until she felt his leaning backwards slightly and she eased herself to lie down beside him on the bed.

"We're on the bed sideways," she pointed out, laughing a little.

"Yes," he replied, "It's silly, isn't it? Do you want to change round before we get too carried away?"

"Yes, please. I might not be able to concentrate otherwise," she told him, simply wriggling herself around ninety degrees while he took the trouble to stand up and turn himself around properly.

"Oh, I'll make sure that that's not a problem," he told her firmly as he lay back down beside her, drawing her back into his arms and kissing her again, exploring her mouth thoroughly so that she heard herself moan involuntarily into his kiss. He kissed her along her jaw as well, one hand softly steadying her face as his mouth travelled along and down towards her neck and collar bone.

Her eyes tight shut, she heard herself moan again, unable to stop herself, tilting her head back on a reflex, her movement almost violent, to allow him better access. He felt the sharpness of her action, and sought to placate her.

"Shh, Ruth, it's alright," he murmured in her ear, tracing the outline of her face with is fingers, pushing the loose curls towards the side of her face "Just let yourself feel it. It's only me."

Slowly, she opened her eyes and found him watching her, lying beside her, concern and tenderness in his face as he watched, just waiting for her.

"Sorry," she whispered, "You can probably tell, it's been a long time since... and I'm not much good at..."

"Don't be sorry. I know it's been a long time for you but I couldn't possibly have guessed except for... Ruth, please don't be frightened of me," he pleaded gently.

"I'm not, Tim, I promise you. I trust you absolutely."

Tentatively she leant forwards, capturing his lips gently and haltingly, until they simply stayed together. Then, sucking on his bottom lip and daringly slipping her tongue into his mouth, deepening their kiss herself for the first time.

"Good," he told her when they broke apart, "I'm glad. Because I love you, Ruth, and you're so, so beautiful, every inch of you," his hand cautiously moved upwards from where it rested at her hip to cup her breast. She gasped in surprise at first, but it quickly turned into a moan of pleasure at the sensations he evoked, "And I want to make love to you," he told her quietly, "Just say the word and I will."

Her eyes widened involuntarily at the proposition put so directly, telling him her answer before she could get the words out. The way the words sounded coming from him together with the way the feelings caused by his hand on her breast shot straight to her centre, her nerves seemed to vanish altogether.

"Make love to me, Tim. Please."

His hands still proceeded cautiously and gently. Massaging her other breast now, he buried his head back into her collarbone, sucking hard on her white skin. She was sure that she would find a little red mark there in the morning, but if she was honest that only excited her more. Gathering her thoughts as much as she was able to, she reached forwards and with great difficult owing to the amount of distractions she faced, went about unbuttoning his shirt and he slipped the straps of her nightie off her shoulders, following them with his mouth, kissing as he went.

Once she had his shirt off him and he had paused for a second to rid himself of his rest- both items thrown unceremoniously onto the floor- she was free to roam his chest admiringly with her hands. Only a thin layer of silk separate his chest from her bosom, which she felt heaving unashamedly in excitement, not caring how wanton she looked or felt now, against him. Guiding his hand a little, she helped him to unfasten the buttons on the back of the dress, her apprehension returning slightly as she waited for him to lift it off her.

"Oh, Ruth."

His hands moved tremulously to her breast, cupping them fully, massaging them firmly, so much so that she felt her hips- still swathed in silk- buck off the bed at the feelings he was creating in her. Then, his mouth lower to her bosom, taking one of her nipples into his mouth, lavishing it with his tongue, drawing it carefully between his teeth. She gasped, running her fingers through his hair, pressing him closer to her.

She was thick and damp with excitement by the time his hands finally brushed down her sides, pushing the silk downwards, revealing entirely to him. His hand caressed her navel lovingly, her hand tightening on his shoulder in spite of herself as his hand travelled further and further downwards and slipped between her legs. Gently caressing the insides of her thighs, she couldn't help but whimper as he brushed a single finger through her folds.

"You're so beautiful, Ruth," he told her.

She bit her lip as his hand moved again. He leant forward, kissing her softly, but drawing her lip between his and sucking to remove the nip of her having bitten it.

"You're beautiful," told assured her again, his meaning clear, "Lie down," he whispered to her, shifting the pillows to lie behind her head and sitting back for a second to remove his trousers and shorts.

He rejoined her, their bodies naked and blissfully aligned with each other as his hand slipped back between her legs, fondling her nub, torturing her with the soft slowness of her excitement, until her hips started to quiver.

"Tim-... Now, or..." 

He didn't need to be told twice. He raised himself above her on his elbows, pushing into her slowly, allowing her to get used to him, not moving until she tilted her hips, giving him permission. She was already tight around him, he could feel the pulses that accompanied her release building at her centre. He was not very far behind; her reaction to his touches having driven him nearly wild. He gathering his speed, pushing into her a little harder. Her mouth, her swollen, wanton lips close to his ear, he could hear her panting, moaning and panting.

As her climax hit her, hard and strong and blindingly beautiful, she felt as if everything within her came pouring out of her, the rush of moisture she felt at her centre, a cry drawn wildly from her throat, tears that fell from her eyes before she'd even realised. Everything was dark, beautiful and dark. The last sound she could distinguish was Tim's low groan before she felt him explode inside of her. She hadn't known love could be like that. Ever.

When she regained her senses, she found herself bundle securely into his arms, their bodies pressed together- still quivering and humming with sated happiness- as he kissed away the tracks of her tears. She had cried... bloody fool woman, she had cried when she had been so very happy. She turned her head towards Tim, wanting to reassure him that she was alright, but when she did he seemed to already know. She supposed it was quite obvious, really. She kissed him softly as he drew the covers over them and they drifted off to sleep together.

**Reviews make me happy!**


	5. Chapter 5

"Ruth, I'm sorry, but I can't honestly see this working out."

Sighing, she got up from where she had been sitting at the dining table that sat at the edge of the large sitting room, following the sound of his voice into the kitchen. They had opened the big french doors onto the garden- fresh morning light and air streaming in- and her dressing gown fluttered just a fraction as she walked.

"Nonsense; what are you talking about?" she asked incredulously, peering over his shoulder, "It looks absolutely fine to me."

"Are you sure this won't make it too runny?" he asked.

"I might not be good for much, but I think I know how to make scrambled egg and toast," she told him, her hand resting tentatively at his side as her arm draped around his back.

Adjusting the pan on top of the stove, he gave the eggs a quick stir before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, turning his head and kissing her on the forehead, allowing his face to rest momentarily in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"What do you think about taking them upstairs and eating them in bed?" she asked.

He gave her a look.

"Bit daring, isn't it?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"Oh, daring, decadent, everything I feel like at the moment," she told him, leaning her head against his shoulder and smiling, "I don't ever eat food in bed, normally," she remarked matter-of-factly.

"What would you think," he asked her thoughtfully, "Of spending the whole day in bed?"

Her heart skipped a little beat.

"Don't you have work to go to?" she asked him.

"My shift doesn't start until this evening."

"Then I think a great deal of spending the day in bed," she told him, "Watch out, you'll burn those eggs if you're not careful. Go on, away with you," she nudged him gently, making him hand over the pan, aware that there was no chance of her concentrating either with him around, "You go and get the toast, put the water in the teapot, and I'll bring this lot upstairs in a second."

With a fond smile over her shoulder, she watched him pottering around her kitchen in his shorts and open shirt with some amusement. She grinned at the eggs in the pan as she stirred them: she was ridiculously happy; happier than she could ever have trusted herself to say. She felt the loss of his presence rather keenly, though, and hurried about, finding a dish to put the eggs in, scooping them hastily out of the pan- almost throwing it empty into the sink- before heading up the stairs as quickly as she could without falling.

She found he had lifted the bedside table forward a little to the foot of the bed and moved the pillows to that end as well so that they could both lie on their stomachs and have their breakfast.

"I see you've already reorganised my bedroom," she remarked lightly.

He grinned at her from where he lay in bed, waiting for her to join him. She noted with some pleasure that he had already shed his shirt, and presumably his shorts too.

"Well, it seemed as good a way as any. You don't mind, do you, because I'll put it back, as soon as we're-..." 

"Mind?" she cut him off with a smile, "How could I ever mind? You make yourself at home as much as you like," she told him, hurrying around the bed to put the dish down on the table, and back to her side of the bed, untying the dressing gown, letting it fall to the floor- amazed and rather pleased at how quickly she had become used to exposing her naked body to him, even after this short time, though the daringness of it still unnerved her slightly- and lifted the covers to slip into bed beside him.

"Oh, Ruth."

She looked up to find him watching her admiringly, a look of absolute love in his eyes, as he reached out to guide her back into the bed and rest his hand carefully on her hip as her body lay back down beside his. Softly, she took his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs along the curve of his cheek, making a slight detour to nudge at his dimples, pressing her lips to his and kissing him once, twice. There seemed to be an utter compatibility in the way their bodies reacted to one another. She smiled against his lips, feeling his hands move to hold her back, pressing gently on her shoulder blades with comforting pressure.

"You're so wonderful, Ruth," he told her, his voice low in her ear, almost seductive but at the same time utterly genuine, "I don't know what I did to end up with you."

"Well, they do say what goes around comes around," she mused jokingly, "Why? Do you think I'm some sort of retribution?"

"Yes, that's what I'd call you," he told her, more than a hint of irony in his voice, "Beautiful, kind, intelligent, passionate," his voice lowered enough at this last to cause her to blush, "Whatever I'm being punished for, I'd say I got off pretty lightly."

She laughed against his shoulder at that last remark, but it turned into a moan when she felt him plant and open-mouthed kiss against her temple.

"I'm being serious, Ruth," he told her firmly, "Beautiful, kind, passionate; please start getting used to hearing it," he told her as she still looked slightly abashed, "Because I don't intend to let you forget it, ever."

Her arms had wrapped themselves around this neck, holding on loosely but closely.

"Did you mean it?" she asked him curiously.

"I dare say yes, but which specific part did you have in mind?"

"When you said you'd ended up with me. You made it sound very... permanent. Or was it just a figure of speech?" she asked hurriedly, aware that she could be going down a horrendously wrong track, "Not hat I'm trying to be pushy, or-..."

He stopped her mouth with another kiss.

"It's as permanent as you want it to be," he told her, "I love you, and I'm yours to command."

There was nothing else she could say to that but;

"Good." 

She allowed him to just hold her for a second, pressing her against him, blissfully submerged in the warm sheets and each other.

"Let's have our breakfast," she said finally.

As they sat up, there was the clearest, most beautiful feeling of a new beginning that she had ever known.

**The End.**

**I hope you like it. Please review if you have the time. **


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